A Seven
by skyewatson
Summary: Stiles and Danny are sleeping in on a Sunday and Scott forgets that Stiles doesn't get out of his boyfriend's bed for anything less then a seven. Danny doesn't even know what a seven is.


Danny snuggled into the soft flesh and muscle of his boyfriend's torso, his eyes shut tight against the invading sunlight. It was too early to be awake, no one in their right mind got up before twelve on a Sunday. Danny especially, not when he and Stiles had watched Star Wars the night before laughing at the special effects and the 'terrifying' bad guys. Danny could live with the graphics, the special effects had been legendary in its time but after running around with wolves and fighting against everything from fairies to spirits, Darth Vador didn't cut it anymore.

Stiles' phone vibrated, jumping against the surface of the wooden dresser and Danny cursed whoever was on the other phone. It was a Sunday and he was not in the mood to deal with the supernatural bullshit Beacon Hills attracted. Stiles groaned next to him, rolling over so his body was flush against Danny's as he tried to blindly grope for his phone.

The phone conversation was short and Danny waited tensely, wondering if he would have time to shower before they would have to go save their friends. Again. It was ridiculous because while they made up two thirds of the human population of the pack, it was them who was always running interference, kicking asses and taking names. Sometimes it was in the psychical sense and other times it was with Danny's hacking skills and Stiles' unhealthy relationship with Wikipedia but still, names were taken.

His heart beats faster when Stiles drops his phone back on the bedside table, and his boyfriend snuggled into his chest. Stiles isn't running around trying to find his clothes so there's a good chance they might be goiing back to sleep. Danny likes that option, he wants to continue on with his original Sunday plan that included sleeping in until the afternoon, eating waffles with ice cream in bed and then lazy afternoon sex. Lazy afternoon sex is his favourite because it's the only time Danny gets to lie back, relax and watch Stiles take charge.

"So, what's the sitch?" Danny traces patterns down Stiles' back and smiles when his boyfriend shivers.

"Well, Kim Possible, I would tell you but I didn't ask."

"Really?"

"Nope, I reminded Scott I don't get out of bed on a Sunday for less than a seven and reminded him again that a lost pair of socks do not count as a seven. Not even if Allison got them for their anniversary."

Danny smiles at the Sherlock reference. "So what's a seven?"

"I mean who even buys people socks for their anniversary? I want dinner, maybe tickets to the next marvel movie but I can settle for an Iron Man marathon and sex."

"I'll make a note. Robert Downey Jr and sex for our anniversary. But you didn't answer my question, what's a seven?"

"A seven is when someone has been kidnapped, a ten is something like the Alpha pack snacking on my dad, a nine and a half is when I'm holding Derek's fat ass up in a pool of water for two god damn hours and an eight is a dead body. If it's not a seven they can deal with it."

"I think you've got it the other way around, why does the body rate higher than the pack getting kidnapped?"

"A dead body is what started this mess so it rates higher but the number of pack members being kidnapped changes it's score. One human or puppy is a seven, more than three is a eight and a half and everyone is an eleven. But if Derek gets kidnapped that's an Argent, no number needed."

Danny laughed, the sound dropping off when Stiles swung a leg over his body, straddling Danny's hips. He sucked in a deep breath and let his boyfriend pin his hands against the soft warm sheets. He wasn't hard by any means but the way Stiles ground down, made his penis twitch with interest. The promise of sex made him wake up a little but Danny still felt like they could be saving the sex for later and sleeping in a little more. His boyfriend, however, had a different opinion if the way he was sucking a hickey onto Danny's neck was any indication.

"Stiles, can we save this for later?"

Stiles hummed into the column of Danny's throat. "I kind of want to have sex now but if you want I can do all the work. All you have to do is lie there and look sexy."

"Stiles you always do the work."

"I know but that's because I run on less sleep than you. Please, babe? I promise it will be good. I'll even be nice to Jackson tomorrow?"

Danny groaned. "Can we not bring him into our discussion about sex?"

Stiles pouted. "Fine but is that a yes? I'll let you tie me up later if you want."

"Can I just gag you?"

"So mean to me, babe. You love the sounds I make."

"I like the sounds you make when you're all fucked out, when I'm taking you apart in pieces and you can't remember your own name."

Stiles moaned and dropped his head on Danny's chest. "You play dirty."

"You're the one who wants to have sex, Stiles. I'm good to go back to sleep if you don't want it."

"You're such a liar."

And he's right because Danny might be sleepy and willing to complain about how it's too early to be awake on a Sunday but he's not going to back to sleep because Stiles is on top of him and doing that thing he does with his hips. The thing that Danny loves and it takes a couple of minutes to get hard but then Stiles is yanking down his boxers and Danny isn't going to protest. Because yeah, Danny is a lying liar that lies.


End file.
